Thursday revealed a curious and telling contradiction in Quebec, a province where contradictions, ambivalence and passion conflate.
Throughout the day, memories were rekindled of that night three decades ago, May 20, 1980, when the referendum on sovereignty-association was lost, but when Parti Québécois premier René Lévesque told his supporters, " à la prochaine fois," until the next time.
That night, at the Bell Centre, a rafter-shaking rendition of O Canada preceded the Montreal Canadiens' playoff game, the volume undoubtedly enhanced by the grand occasion, the passion of Habs fans and pregame libations.
Thirty years after the first of two referendums, Quebeckers remain justifiably proud of their society that reflects, in part, a bundle of existential contradictions when it comes to their place in or out of Canada. They've put the idea of seceding from Canada on the backburner, but the flame of independence remains for many Québécois.
Two political parties keep the flame alive - the Parti Québécois and the Bloc Québécois. And although polls continue to show, as they did 30 years ago, that anything resembling a straightforward question on secession - "Do you want an independent Quebec?" or "Do you want to separate from Canada?" - would be defeated, who knows what might happen if, once again, some convoluted question were posed about seceding while still retaining extensive ties with Canada?
The essence of democracy suggests that the "outs" of today will some day become the "ins," so the PQ will return to power, perhaps as soon as the next election. If not then, at some point.
Liberal Premier Jean Charest has won three elections, whereas Quebec premiers are usually given only two wins. He and his government now find themselves in terrible political shape, beset by accusations of scandal and hammered for trying, for the first time, to get a grip on Quebec's serious fiscal challenges.
Mr. Charest, beseeched by federalists to go to Quebec as a kind of Captain Canada, soon figured out that strong nationalism rather than vigorous defence of federalism defines Quebec politics. So he adopted the assigned role of demandeur, complainer, defender of the nebulous "Quebec interests."
In this sense, nothing much has changed in 30 years in Quebec, which is why there remains about the province's political culture a dream-palace quality, in which hard realities are suffused with the balm of blaming woes on others (Ottawa, federalism being prime targets) and the elixir of believing that things would be somehow better if Quebec became the Slovakia of North America - small, proud, distinct, independent, self-reliant yet linked with a larger economic space.
The dream of secession will not die for it has too many believers, but it certainly has taken knocks from some of the movement's former PQ leaders, such as Pierre-Marc Johnson and Lucien Bouchard, who have turned to other pursuits and think the idea of secession no longer relevant.
After all, it's hard for any credible person to argue that compelling conditions exist that would justify the breakup of one of the world's most successful countries, Canada: oppression of basic rights, suppression or dilution of language or religion, economic deprivation, political deadlock.
Quebec's internal challenges are, grosso modo, much like those of other advanced industrial countries, including the rest of Canada, with the exception that challenges remain for maintaining the vitality of French, the threats to which are not tied to belonging to the Canadian federation.
The justifiable pride that Quebeckers have in themselves manifests itself in many ways and institutions, one of which is the Montreal Canadiens, a team that is more than just a sports franchise but also the repository of collective memories, glorious accomplishments, pride, and more often than not, of doing things right and with class.
This season, something approximating a hockey miracle is emerging in Montreal. A team universally consigned to the first-round scrap heap against the unbeatable Washington Capitals finds itself alive and, after a stirring triumph against Philadelphia Thursday night, still fighting in round three.
There wasn't an honest Canadiens' fan anywhere who believed that les Canadiens, who barely staggered into the playoffs, would still be playing in late May.
So to the endemic passion that infuses the Bell Centre at every game has been added the thrill of the unexpected. Dreams that were so implausible as to be banished, are now vibrantly alive in a population where, it has been said with only slight exaggeration, hockey is a religion.
Montreal fans are terrific, but they can be fickle, a bit like Quebeckers in politics. Three months ago, all was given up for lost. The general manager Bob Gainey (now hailed as a near-genius) resigned. The hockey talk shows endlessly dissected the team's manifold failings.
Today, this group of players from the United States, English-speaking Canada and Europe (there being few francophone players) has Montreal and Quebec in its thrall, with the loudest cheers - and they are ear-splittingly loud - for players with names such as Subban, Cammalleri, Gionta, Hamrlik, Gill and Halak.
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